Into the Black Hole
by The Drunken Wookiee
Summary: The true story of BoShek, the unsung hero who introduced Ben Kenobi to Chewbacca.


Into the Black Hole  
  
Space? You want space? You got it. Out here drifting in the dark, Earth is so huge, but I can see it all. Look hard enough you could time the waves crashing on either shore of America. Ever wonder whether the rhythms of the wave- breaks are syncopated or in perfect time with each other?  
  
This pressure suit is the only thing that keeps me alive, out here swimming in nothing. The void between the celestial bodies, space. I think I'd really enjoy it a lot more if this stupid MMU wasn't malfunctioning. The controls are shot. Left goes up, up goes back, back goes back, they pretty much all just take me away from Earth and the ship I rode out in.  
  
"Houston? Uh... I've got a malfunctioning MMU, and I think I might just go ahead and die helplessly drifting through this stupid vacuum." Why did I want to be an astronaut, anyway? Stupid Neil Armstrong; first American to actually kiss the sky. I'll blame my predecessors.  
  
"Bo, we've lost you on the radar. Where are you?" Crackly little voice. Doesn't do me any good. How can some guy on that little drifting-away marble help me right now when what I really need is a ride home?  
  
"Well... the shuttle just passed out of view behind the horizon, and it looks like... yeah, conveniently, the sun will dispose of my body in a few years..."  
  
"All right, Bo, don't panic..."  
  
"I'm beyond panic, Ed. I'm already dead."  
  
Then a little bit of static comes through and then, thankfully, nothing. If I'm going to die in space I'd rather not be talking to that guy when it happens.  
  
Well, drifting in a giant snow globe, got nothing left to do but count stars. Is that one shooting? No, I am. I wonder if they can spot me with a telescope, just a tiny spot in space. Probably not. I don't even exist anymore. Won't even make the news. It's not like I want to die, I just have no choice. This space rocket backpack just gave out entirely from messing with it too much. Maybe it ran out of fuel. Maybe if I go to sleep now I won't wake up, and somehow that will make this easier.  
  
Sleep comes quickly. Nothing else to do out here. Earth dreams, my precious little daughter and her bright starry eyes. She looks up at me with placid innocence and says, "When's daddy coming home?"  
  
I wake up with tears in my eyes, my face mask fogged over. I'm tempted to open it and let the outer space suck the life from me, but then I notice that the Earth is gone, and so is the sun.  
  
"Did I sleep a thousand years?" I wonder aloud, but space offers no answers. The fact is, there's nothing around I twirl one-eighty degrees and find that instead of a big yellow sun I'm drifting into an even bigger black hole. So now I get to find out what lies beyond the outer rim of one of these things. I guess I'd enjoy it a lot more if I thought I was going to survive it. Anything that swallows light probably won't have a difficult time digesting me.  
  
So down into the hole I go, drifting through a tunnel of space dust and streaming light, a casual observer. The journey lasts hours, days, months, or seconds... hard to tell. But at the end of the ride this thing shoots me out into a huge dust cloud in the middle of an asteroid field like a vacuum cleaner set on reverse. A huge splash of light plays around me as something large and metal swoops into my path. I grab hold and glance over my shoulder at the black hole outlet, which looks much like the exact opposite of a black hole, what with all the light and other, more tangible particles bursting from it. Just behind us what looks like a triangular space ship is suddenly bombarded by a blast of asteroids, one of which smashes through the central nervous system of this thing and sends it careening lifelessly through space.  
  
The thing I'm holding onto flips over, and at that point I realize that I'm clinging to the underbelly of some round space ship like some crazed thrill junkie traveling a hundred thousand miles an hour or more.  
  
Then I spot this... thing... I don't know what it is. Some mechanism in arms-reach that calls to me, a small bar that hinges on two other small bars. All right, so maybe curiosity kills cats, but I just have to pull this thing. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't even know what these aliens are like, but I'd rather take my chances inside the ship than out, if at all possible. Well, too much hesitation leads to regret and eventual baldness, and I don't want any of that, so I pull this lever and a very large panel on the ship slides open right there in front of me, reminding me of a longjohns trapdoor as it drops large cube crates behind it, leaving a trail even Hansel and Gretel could follow.  
  
Rather than contemplate on all that, I climb into this thing and find a squatting spot just before the panel gets all excited and slides closed.  
  
As I sigh relief I realize that I've got about three breaths of oxygen left in my reserves. I hope these creatures breathe some similar air. Only one way to find out... I look around this small, dark room. I'm not yet in pressurized air, so I need to find the way out of this cargo hold and into the ship pretty quickly.  
  
A sudden hiss shoots pressurized air and artificial light into this small hold and I look up at this huge furry beast that hollers at me deafeningly, baring large, sharp teeth that drip with drool and madness. I see his huge arm reach down for me just before I run out of air and pass out.  
  
When I wake up the furry beast is gone, and so is my helmet. I'm lying on a semicircular couch behind a table that looks like a round chessboard, but without any pieces. I sit up and look around what can only be some sort of lounge on the ship. There's a regular human man sitting in a chair twirling my helmet in his hands, completely blows my mind. He wears tall black boots and navy blue pin-striped pants. On top of that he's got on a white button- down shirt, long sleeve, and a fancy black vest, comes out looking like some sort of modern pirate. He rubs the scar on his chin as we quietly observe each other.  
  
Finally, in perfect American English, he asks, "Where'd you come from?"  
  
That question just makes me laugh, but not with amusement; more of a bitter sort of laugh. "It's a long story..."  
  
"Well, Jabba's gonna put a price on my head... I was supposed to deliver those crates in the cargo hold to him. I'd just like to know where it is that you came from, and why you dumped my cargo."  
  
"You know what a black hole is?" I ask after some deliberation. He nods. Of course he knows. He's a space pilot. "Well you flew by the out end of one, and I just happened to shoot out and catch this ship. I had no intention..."  
  
"The out end? I haven't heard about that part of a black hole... I tend to avoid them when I'm near." He stands and extends his hand. "I'm Han Solo."  
  
I shake his hand. "You don't look Japanese..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My name's Bo Novacek."  
  
"How's that? Bo... Shek?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. So are you from Earth?"  
  
"Never heard of it. I'm from Corellia."  
  
"Right. So... you're going to kill me, aren't you?"  
  
He chews his lip a bit. "I considered it. Chewie talked me out of it."  
  
"Chewie?"  
  
"My copilot. The Wookiee you met earlier."  
  
"Wookiee?"  
  
Han laughs. "Are you even from this galaxy?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Alarms ring off throughout the ship, and without a word Han jogs out of the room. I follow him into the ship's cockpit, look out the front window to a tunnel of streaked and swirling light similar to the inside of my black hole. Han pulls a lever and everything slows into a solar system with two stars. The jolt nearly takes me to the floor, but I grab onto the seat behind the wookiee beast and ease into it. We fly quickly toward a yellowish, sand-colored planet. I can't see a spot of blue, and suddenly everything starts to set in. This is exactly what I wanted when I studied to be an astronaut, not a job as a zero gravity satellite mechanic.  
  
So here I am, living out my dreams with a total stranger and his... copilot, and all I can think of is that sad look in my daughter's eyes.  
  
A small voice comes in through some small speaker somewhere and tells us to land in docking bay ninety four.  
  
At this point I'm just a fly on the wall. I see everything, but have no idea what's going on. My head is swimming. The planet is entirely dester, far as I can tell, but we don't fly over the whole thing before setting down in what I can only assume is docking bay ninety four. It's just a large round wall with some stations set up along it for different ship repair facilities. No roof, a dirt floor... I'm starting to think this place is one big hole that miscreants like Han and his chewy partner just sort of fall into when times get tough.  
  
We're met at the bottom of the ship's ramp by some armored men. I can't see their faces, but their helmets are much more stylish than mine.  
  
"Boba Fett," Han sneers, and Chewie gurgles distastefully at the fella in the center. "You mind if I get a drink before we get to business?"  
  
"Jabba wants his cargo now," says Fett through some speaker in his helmet.  
  
"There were some complications," Han says, shooting a sidelong glare at me. "We were boarded by imperials. We had no choice but to dump the cargo..."  
  
They all stand silent for a moment, statues with funny-looking guns and other sorts of mechanical devices I've never seen. Finally, Fett says, "I don't have time to waste on you, Solo."  
  
I watch Han's hand sink smoothly to the gun hanging from his hip and prepare for the worst. I have a feeling that Han could take at least one down before they got the best of him.  
  
"Relax," says Fett. "You know I won't kill you without a price." With a twitch of his head Fett leads the other toughs out. "I'm sure I'll be back for you."  
  
"Classy guy," I say. "So, is he some kind of mercenary?"  
  
"You're sharp," Han snaps. "Come on."  
  
So I follow them out of the docking bay and into this little dustball town infested with strange alien creatures of all shapes and sizes - mammals, reptiles, bugs, jiminy crickets this place is weird. The houses look like they're made of sand in solid blocks, the cars don't ever touch the ground.  
  
Then we step into this small seedy club full of the meanest-looking of all the assorted, sordid types I've seen so far, spacy, synthesized jazz music pouring out grooves that would blow Herbie Hancock's mind. We walk through opium- laden smokey air to a small table in a back corner. Han sits down and sets some strange coins on the table.  
  
"You have any chips?" he asks.  
  
"Chips?"  
  
"Credits... money?"  
  
"Oh... No. We don't spend money in space where I'm from."  
  
"What're you gonna do, try to get back home?"  
  
I shake my head. "Nah, I'd like to see more strange locales and happenings."  
  
"Whatever suits you," he says dismissively. "I'd help if I could, but as you can see I've got problems of my own to deal with. I suggest either finding a job or pulling some kind of scam. Whatever gets you off'a this rock... What'd you used to do back on your planet?"  
  
"I repaired satellites in space."  
  
Han laughs. "You'll do all right. Take these chips, get yourself a drink or something."  
  
I can't figure this guy out. A scoundrel, or a gentleman, or maybe a little of both...  
  
I open my mouth to apologize, but he raises up his hand and stares at me knowingly.  
  
"I'll do my best to repay you, Han, if I ever get a chance." He smirks on one side of his mouth. I take the coins from the table, thank him, then head for the bar. Chewie's already there ordering drinks, so I stand beside him. Something about that large beast makes me feel safe. I don't even know what to ask for at the bar, so I just order "something strong." After a day like this I need a little bit of sloshy forgetfulness.  
  
As I'm sitting there with my drink, observing the sheer surreality of the moment, capped by a lilted jazz melody that captures my brain and taps my foot, an old man approaches, dressed in heavy brown robes, reminiscent of a Shaolin monk, his short hair white to mach his beard.  
  
"Good day, kind sir," he says politely and a little overenthusiastically. His uplifting tone brings a smile to my face nearly as sincere as his. "My nephew and I are looking for a quick flight from this planet. Would you happen to have a ship we could charter?"  
  
"No, but that big furry guy behind me does," I say, thumbing at Chewie, who's about to take his two drinks back to the table. "His name's Chewie, I think."  
  
"Chewie?"  
  
"Yeah. He and his buddy are real class acts. They helped me out of a tight jam."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your help."  
  
"No problem, sir."  
  
Nice guy. Not the kind of guy you'd expect to pull out a glowing blue rod and chop up some aliens that were picking on his nephew, but I guess I still have a lot to learn about this universe. I know one thing, though. I'll never forget that song. I'd follow this band all over the galaxy if I could muster the cash for it. Maybe they'll let me tag along and do odd jobs, sort of like a roadie... or I guess it'd be a spacie... 


End file.
